“Did he?” The harsh line of Edward’s mouth softened. “Sebastian is a good man. A rare sort for the ton. A nonesuch, and I do not compliment men lightly. Grandfather may have overplayed his hand in ordering the two of you together, but I would not so readily dismiss Mr. Sinclair because of one overbearing old man.”
The strange ache within me intensified. “Sebastian plans to return to India within a fortnight. He has urgent matters to settle. Besides, his inheritance hinges on marriage. That is the only reason he’s here.”
Edward’s expression shifted, his brow furrowing as he studied me. “And yet he fought for you. Kit, a man does not risk his reputation in such a way unless there is something deeper.”
My heart twisted. “I cannot allow myself to believe it’s real.”
Edward set his beaver hat on the table and leaned closer. “You do not love him, then?”
“I don’t know.” The words came out in a whisper. “I’ve seen glimpses of the man he is—his kindness, his convictions—but I can’t tell what is true and what is ... duty.”
Rarely had I seen my brother so shocked at a confession of mine. His mouth parted. “Truly, I am staggered, Kit. That fight earlier between him and Chudley. Why, I thought that you...” He retrieved his beaver hat and tucked it beneath one arm. “Do promise me you have not agreed to anything with Chudley. Has he compromised you?”
I bristled at Edward’s fierce tone. “Lord Chudley merely wanted to best Sebastian, yes? Neither man has done anything but deliver flowers to me and offer a few invitations to events.”
“Listen to me. Men are fools when it comes to love, but even a fool does not vow to woo a woman unless he’s already lost a part of his heart to her. No man simply delivers flowers out of an abundance of manners,” Edward persisted as he gripped his cane.
“Nor does a man simply buy a lovely hat for a childhood friend,” I challenged, now placing my fists on my hips.
He leaned over me and blew out the candle on the desk, but not before I got a closer look at the wolf’s head of his cane. “Touché, Sister. And on that vindictive note, I shall bid you good night before we awaken the household.”
I trembled after Edward left me, for I was certain I had not witnessed mud but something cleaned hastily, leaving residue deeply embedded into the carving. My enigmatic brother, who left our house at the strangest hours with his intimate knowledge of Indian poisons and London’s darker nightlife—he seemed more a stranger than kin these days.
Had I spied blood?
18:Kitty
Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.
SARAH WILLIAMS, “THE OLD ASTRONOMER TO HIS PUPIL”
Three days after the disastrous gathering at Lord Chudley’s home, I received an invitation to another ball—an invitation that bore his unmistakable seal. Along with a massive bouquet of purple hyacinths in an exquisite crystal vase.
I skimmed the note and passed it to Aunt, who read it with arched eyebrows. We sat in the drawing room while Freddy wrote letters at the desk near the window. Perhaps to keep an eye out for my brother’s return. Sebastian and Edward had left the townhome after breakfast. Sebastian for business. And Edward? He’d refused to share his plans.
“He is apologizing for his appalling behavior,” Aunt declared, inspecting both the note and the flowers through her lorgnette, her tone sharp. “He waited long enough.” She dropped the missive onto my lap as if the paper were soiled.
I traced the edge of the invitation, the weight of her words settling uneasily. “I am no longer interested in his flowers or letters.”
“A man who cannot control himself will only wound you,” Freddy spoke from the desk, her quill paused as she raised her head to study me.Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain.
I agreed.
Aunt sniffed, unimpressed. “You ought to consider your position and marry Mr. Sinclair quickly. Independence is a luxury afforded to few women, and even fewer without the protection of a husband.”
Her remark stung, though not because it was untrue. Was it foolish to wish for love and freedom? To find a partner who would not bind me but walk beside me? As my parents had experienced?
I fingered the note, the script pulling my thoughts back to the garden and the fencing bout I had witnessed. Lord Chudley’s volatile temper had been on full display that day, and though the duel had ended, its repercussions lingered.
His plea, scrawled in a hastier hand than usual, grated against my nerves. Did he truly think an apology and a vase of flowers would erase my doubts?
I crumpled the paper and flicked it into the nearby fireplace. The flames devoured it hungrily, yet the chill creeping through me refused to dissipate. The act felt resolute, almost Grandfather-like in its finality. And yet, as I watched it curl into ash, I couldn’t ignore the voice within me whispering of mistakes I’d made in my desperate pursuit to carve my own path and find my voice.
I turned back to Aunt, who was still regarding the flowers with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. For all her sharp words, she had a way of revealing truths I might otherwise avoid.
“Aunt,” I said carefully, my voice steady, “how well do you remember living in India?”
She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. Lowering her lorgnette, she fixed me with an appraising look. “India? It was many years ago. Why do you ask?”
